My Own
by slasher454
Summary: Marriage Law Repealed? HGSS rated M for a reason. Complete.
1. Chapter 1

**Standard Disclaimer:** Characters belong to JKR.

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**My Own: P****rologue**

'Hermy' is what Harry called her when he wanted something. Ronald preferred 'Mione,' leading Fred and George to call her 'Tiny Mione,' or, when she begged them to leave her to her studies, 'Whiny Mione.' Her grandparents loved their little Mimi, and her parents called her dearest, poppet, or just plain Hermione. Hermione Jean if they were angry.

For a long time he only called her Miss Granger, and then Mrs. Snape when it was appropriate. Occasionally he called out, "Hermione" to get her attention in the presence of friends, but only if he desperately needed her to look his way, otherwise he just waited until she looked to him before saying anything at all.

But when they were alone in the dark of their marriage bed, fulfilling their requirement per the ministry's law, he would softly utter his own nickname for her, the only one she didn't despise. "Mion," he whispered as her passion began to reach its peak, and it always sent her tumbling over the edge.

It was typically Severus to be so possessive as to verbally lay claim to her even as he took her, yet remain so insecure as to hide it in a nickname.

"Mion," his lips uttered.

"My own," his heart professed.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: **Still don't own these characters

**Dedication:** To all you Snape/Hermione fans who have shared your wonderful stories. I found a lot of inspiration in your works, and some of it will show through here. Hopefully you still find it at least a little bit original and not too cliche. xoxox - slash

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**Chapter Two:** **Repeal**

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It took just over a year of marriage before he called her Mion outside of the bedroom, but even after two, he still used the endearment sparingly and never in front of another soul. Nor did she speak of it even when Ginny begged for details pertaining to the quiet private life the Snape's had settled into. Ginny nodded sympathetically when Hermione told her it was unequivocally private, that _he_ was unequivocally private.

The morning young Mrs. Potter came for an impromptu visit after breakfast, Severus sat in the adjoining study and had just opened The Daily Prophet and caught the headline that was sure to have brought the redheaded interloper screeching to his wife's side.

"Marriage Law Repealed?" it questioned in bold letters.

Ginny hastily condensed the information The Prophet had to offer, as well as insights from her father and brothers who worked for the Ministry of Magic. Apparently a hearing to repeal the law was being held today and there was at least a 50 percent chance that judgment would be in favor of repeal. There were a few swing votes that seemed unable to ignore the number of 'successful' couples created as well as the population explosion that came along with them. But, all in all, it looked like at least those who had been forced by the law to marry would be granted the right to petition for divorce as soon as tomorrow.

"Finally!" Ginny squealed excitedly, grasping Hermione's hand, "it will all be done with soon, and everyone who was hurt by this law will be able to get their lives back." At this, she looked at Hermione meaningfully. Hermione looked up to get Severus' reaction only see the tail end of his robes billowing out the door to his lab.

"Well?" Ginny grinned.

"Well what?" Hermione asked, forcing her trembling fingers into submission as she prepared another cup of tea.

"Well, _Ron_ can't wait to divorce Lavender," Ginny insinuated.

"I thought she was pregnant?" Hermione added nonplussed.

"Nope. False alarm!" Ginny answered cheerily.

"Oh," Hermione replied, "how odd. She seemed so sure when Severus and I saw her last week in Diagon Ally."

Ginny snorted, "Well, she would say that to _you_, especially last week when we first heard the law was headed toward the chopping block. She'd do anything to keep her little 'Ronnikins.' We can't wait to be rid of her."

Hermione frowned. She had never liked Lavender much at school and seethed with rage when the ministry paired her with Ron after she had been shipped off to Spinners End to marry Snape, but it was still disheartening that Lavender was being tossed out by the Weasley's like yesterdays trash after spending the past two years trying to carve out a life with them.

Then she considered what Severus must be thinking. Of course he expected her to run from him as fast as she could. And he had told her a least a hundred times that he longed for the day.

She recalled how he spent the first three weeks of their unwanted marriage ignoring her completely except on Saturday night when he would come to her bed for a frenzied coupling, then leave her alone to cool in sweaty sheets. Months later, even as they merged their days together smoothly, Saturday nights remained awkward at first. His groping hands moved mechanically over her stiff body. He would eventually lower his face between her thighs and lick her until she was wet enough to penetrate. Sometimes she came, sometimes she didn't. He didn't seem to care either way. But she did.

Six months into their marriage she turned their whole arrangement on its ear the night she followed him to his bed and demanded a more satisfying encore performance. He acted angry and completely disinterested even as his boxers tented declaring his arousal over her forward behavior. She climbed into his bed, spread her thighs wantonly, and touched herself, insinuating that he wasn't man enough to finish her and she'd have to do the job herself. That night he took her over the edge and beyond, over and over until they drifted to sleep curled around one another. In the morning, she smiled upon waking, tangled in his arms and said, "I like sleeping in your bed."

Perhaps it was the momentary confusion one has between dreams and consciousness. Perhaps it was the continued afterglow from the first night of true passion they had shared. Or, Perhaps he was finally ready to let her in, just a little.

"I like you sleeping in my bed," he replied sleepily into her hair.

At that, she snuggled in tighter and sighed pleasantly. A rather ordinary day followed and he prepared himself for the return to their usual routine as he climbed into bed, but then she boldly reentered his room like she owned the place and reclaimed her place at his side. He stiffened at first, but said nothing as she tucked herself under his arm and laid her head on his chest. In the nights afterward he learned to expect her, to roll with her when she changed position, and how much she enjoyed sex while spooning in the early hours of the morning.

Presently, Ginny stared at her expectantly. Hermione gave the younger woman a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes and nodded in agreement. To what, she had no idea. Ginny was pleased, nonetheless. Hermione quickly changed the subject to Harry, and after a few minutes of chattering about Ginny's husband, said green-eyed super-lover poked his messy head through the floo and requested that his adoring wife return home to help with the baby. Hermione did her best to hide her relief as Ginny departed.

She needed time to think.

Alone.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer:** If they were mine, I'd be so rich, I'd buy you each a pony.

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Chapter 3: Trial Separation

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Severus remained locked in his lab for the day and Hermione found busy work to do around the house while she thought about her change in circumstance. If the law was repealed, did he expect her to go? If divorce became an option, would he petition for one? Would she?

She had spent the first couple of months of her marriage to Severus desperately pining for Ron. And it was mutual. Whenever they met she could feel his love for her pounding in her own chest even as the waves of hatred and jealousy that radiated from Lavender threatened to consume them all.

But that was ages ago.

She had given up all hope of them every being together again and got on with life. Could they really start over?

Downstairs in the lab, a second cauldron boiled over and Severus gave up for the day. It was no use trying to brew when all he could think of was her and the imminent return of his life of solitude. Was she already packing? Where would she go?

It had been a long time since he had heard her speak of plans for her future that didn't involve him, but it would be unlike her not to have a backup plan.

Not that she needed one. She had the Weasley's.

And what was his backup plan? What did he have? He looked around his perfect lab. The lab of his dreams. The lab she organized. The lab she stocked and cleaned. He saw her everywhere, smelled her, _felt_ her, as though she was imbued into the very walls. This is what he had, another ghost to live with, and he didn't know whether to laugh or cry.

They remained apart until diner. She studied while he cooked, as was their usual, until they finally met at the table. The awkward silence stretched on between them as the only sound in the room was that of the cutlery clinking and scraping as they pushed their food around their plates. After diner they retired to separate corners of the living room to read, or at least pretend to read while they continued to ruminate over the end of their life together.

It had been a promise that they would separate as soon as legally able. He recalled the vindictive way he kept her from settling into his house by vanishing any belongings she left outside of her tiny bedroom. Even now she didn't dare leave a quill or jumper out of place, let alone one of her university books.

He had promised not to interfere with her continuing education, but also that he wouldn't help, either. She had a full year of university left, and he knew she hadn't even begun to pay off the debt she had already accrued.

As soon as she was disconnected from Severus, the goblins would cut off her credit and expect her to start paying. Weasly couldn't afford to help her; he could hardly afford to keep the wife he had in decent robes. Though Severus supposed that wouldn't matter to Hermione. She was a true Gryffindor, after all. One for '_rich in love_' and all that rot.

Money wouldn't keep her here.

Hermione had never considered money to be an issue before. But now, sitting before the stunning collection of priceless books, many of which she had helped him track down, for what was possibly the last time, she couldn't help but feel a little bitter about her situation.

She was in debt up to her eye balls even as the patents for the potions she helped him create were making him as rich as Malfoy. Beyond having to deal with the Gringotts goblins, she would lose access to his books _and_ his lab. Gods, how would she ever get through university now? And how long would it be before he replaced her with a new assistant?

Possibly a _female_ assistant.

The thought of another woman living in his house and assisting him in his lab invaded her mind and made her stomach roil. Just as unbidden, the image of him bending said woman over his work table the way he had done with her so many times assaulted her. Her unread book tumbled to the floor and she fought the urge to run to the bathroom and vomit.

His eyes snapped up from his reading and oscillated between her impenetrable eyes and the tome at her feet. He silently cursed himself for teaching her occlumency. Was she fantasizing about Weasley? Had she ever stopped thinking of him? It was certainly no secret that she loved the redheaded twit before being forced into marriage.

Severus had blamed her for the fact that the ministry paired them and did nothing to assuage her pain and fears when they were summoned to be wed. It was _her_ fault that their questionnaires bore so many matching answers, he concluded. She had to know that her answers were no where near _Weasley's_. For Merlin's sake, she had even chosen potions as her preferred magical study right after entering her N.E.W.T. scores, which she absolutely knew were second only to his.

On their wedding night, he told her not to get too comfortable in his house because he would see her out of it as soon as the stupid law was repealed. Then he casually stripped before his virginal bride and dispassionately requested that she do the same so that they could, "get this over with already."

She cried.

He cringed. He wouldn't, _couldn't_, take her by force. But he couldn't, _wouldn't_, play the part of the paramour.

He was seductive, but not romantic, and he downplayed his reactions to her as he slowly worked her stiff, terrified body into a soft, quivering mass of willingness and desire, caressing his chest and biceps, sucking his tongue as he kissed her, and lifting her legs high around his waist to give him better access to plumb her depths.

He hadn't had a lot of experience before her, and considering that he couldn't have been further from the man she truly desired, it was quite an achievement to bring her to ecstasy. And gods, the look on her face when she came ... Weasley might have her heart and her cow eyes from across the room, but he'd never seen that look. That face belonged to Severus, and Severus alone.

At least it use to.

She would go away soon and take that look with her. She give herself to Weasley. He'd see the look. He'd see her reach her dreams and be part of them.

That redheaded bastard.

Severus got up from his chair and retrieved the book from the floor while his wife sat still as a statue with a stony gaze to match. He dropped the book in her lap and stood before her for a long moment.

"Manners, Mrs. Snape," he drawled coolly.

"Thank you," she replied in little more than a whisper.

He scrutinized her for a moment more before retreating to the bedroom. _His_ bedroom. He could hardly think of it as theirs anymore. Leaving her to her well guarded thoughts and locking himself behind the oak door just as securely, he stripped off is robes and readied for bed.

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**Author's Note:** Thanks for the reviews! This was originally a pretty short story, but you guys influenced me to flesh it out a bit more - xoxo slash


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: **You got me I'm JKR writing teacher/student pron. I know I said it was dirtybadwrong, but that was just to keep the press off my case. SS/HG 4eva!!

Seriously, I'm not JKR, don't sue me. But do enjoy the lemons I'm serving with tea today. xoxo- slash

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Trial Separation: Part II

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Hermione heard him close the door distantly, but her thoughts were consumed with the new future the next day would bring. She was expected to want her marriage to be annulled, to run from Severus and into the arms of Ron who was apparently still eager to have her.

Part of her _did_ want to run back to Ron, to reclaim him from Lavender, to officially become a Weasley and have that life she had long wished for. But that meant leaving Severus. No, not just leaving him. Giving him away for another to take. And certainly someone would take him.

A new wave of nausea rocked her, and she tried to clear her mind of those thoughts. She didn't want anyone else to have him. To hold him. To make love with him. And, _oh gods_, to bear his children. She was certainly going to vomit if she didn't stop now.

The ministry officials had contacted them about their lack of "production" a year ago. They hadn't dared to use any form of birth control lest it be discovered and they be publicly tried, heavily fined, and jailed. Still, they didn't conceive and were summoned to report to the ministry for full evaluations.

Severus was given a clean bill of health despite all the vile potions, rounds of crucio, and other dark curses and hexes that he had been exposed to over the years. It wasn't him.

It was her.

"_Severe internal curse damage to lower abdomen indicating likely sterility."_

That was the official diagnosis. Fucking Bellatrix LeStrange. May she rot in shit for all eternity.

Hermione had never thought she wanted children until that precise moment and it took all her strength to not openly weep. Severus had voiced his displeasure at being forced to procreate many times and she prayed that for once he'd let the opportunity to make a witty remark slide.

He did.

As the ministry doctor droned on about increasing their odds of "success," Severus took her cold sweaty hand in his warm and gentle grasp and led her home.

Home.

She looked around the place she had spent the past two years calling home and felt a terrible sadness at the loss of that secure feeling she had had just 24 little hours earlier. This wasn't her home. It never really was.

There wasn't a single thing in the room that was hers, he had diligently made sure of that. Yet another reminder that he expected her out eventually. All of her belongings were put away in the little room he had set aside for her use. She could pack up and be gone in less than an hour and this place would look same, as though she had never really been here at all.

It was after midnight now. A trying day was creeping toward her and all she wanted was to curl up one last time in the safety of his arms and try to forget about the inevitable morning. She went to the bathroom to prepare for bed and was shocked to find that he had locked the bedroom door. _His_ bedroom door. She couldn't think of it as theirs anymore. Her heart clenched and she felt winded.

He was already set for it to be over.

She retreated to her old room and spent a few minutes boxing up the clothes, text books, and old assignments she had allowed to accumulate on the bed, and then curled up under the covers for a good cry.

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Severus lay awake thinking of the events the morning would bring and was startled to hear her attempt to open the door. Did she want to join him in his bed? No. Probably not. She would have wanted to talk. She was always very chatty when it was the most inconvenient or uncomfortable.

Well, he'd be damned if he would suffer to make her feel better about running off to her new life, or rather, her _old_ life. If he did allow her to join him for one last night, there would be no talking, that's for damned sure.

He recalled their last encounter, three days ago, in the shower. He had gotten up early to prepare for a potions symposium and just as he started to relax under the hot water, she slipped in and wrapped her arms around his waist, then she slid down and wrapped her lips around his cock.

She had been so miserable at oral stimulation when they first married, but as with everything else, she was a quick study. Now it only took her a few minutes to have him slack-jawed and thrumming with pleasure. He pressed her against the shower wall and took her from behind, rubbing her clit in time until she came. It wasn't the most satisfying experience he'd given her, but had he known it would it would be the last …

Tomorrow she would go to Weasley, and that would be her last experience with him. A five minute fuck in the shower. Before he knew it he was opening the door to her room, his cock already standing at attention.

She startled when he opened the door and held her breath as he stripped in the dark and sought her body under the covers. She felt as stiff as she had their first night together, but this time it only took a single kiss to melt her from head to toe. He could taste the salt of her tears and feel their wetness on her face as he cradled her.

"Tears, Mion?" he questioned as he nuzzled her neck and his hand drifted down to relieve her of her nightgown.

"You locked the door," she replied timidly.

"I'm sorry. I thought I wanted to be alone," he supplied as his lips traveled her throat and his fingers found the hem of the gown and slipped beneath it.

She wasn't sure how to take that. Did he mean he didn't want to be alone tonight, their last night or was he saying he wanted her to stay?

In the end, it didn't really matter in this moment. She wanted to lose herself in passion with him regardless. She tangled her fingers in his hair and pulled him in for a very deep and thorough kiss. She felt like she could swallow him whole.

He slipped her knickers down her legs and gently parted her thighs. He found her not only willing, but eager, his fingers slipping in her moisture, dragging it up to her clitoris, rubbing, and dipping back into her for more.

"Severus," she moaned.

He smiled, and continued dipping, dragging, and rubbing for several minutes while he worked his mouth slowly over her breasts, gently taking her nipples between his teeth, the desire to devour her almost overwhelming.

He kissed his way down her body and when his lips reached the center of her arousal, she had already begun to writhe and tighten around his fingers as he worked them in and out of her. He gently pushed back the flesh surrounding her nub until it stood erect and fully exposed before him. He looked up at her face as his mouth hovered the eager bud, his moist breath teasing it further. She held her bottom lip between her teeth in anticipation and her eyes pleaded with him to stop teasing and connect with her.

He closed his mouth over the bud, sucking and flickering with quick, rhythmic strokes of his tongue while he continued to pump his fingers below. Her delighted sighs and moans egged him on. She threaded her fingers though his hair, arched her back, lifting her hips and pressing herself into his mouth more firmly. He groaned as her legs began to tremble and her walls clamped down around his fingers as she came.

Before she had fully recovered, he climbed back on top and eased himself into her, rocking gently until he was fully seated and then delivering long, deep strokes, feeling every bit of her and savoring the experience. Their slow, passionate coupling eventually evolved into frantic kisses and greedy limbs clutching and pulling while the desperate need to consume and be consumed overtook them. She locked her legs around his waist as he pumped into her, grinding against her and delivering one stunning climax after the next until he could hold if off no longer and followed her, shuddering into sated bliss.

They petted and kissed tenderly as they caught their breath and their pulses descended to normal, or as normal as possible with the weighted silence that began to stretch on between them.

Was that goodbye?

They moved into their usual position for sleep and ignored the question as it hung in air around them, drifting into an uneasy sleep.

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**Author's Note: **Thanks for the reviews!!


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer:** Sadly, still don't own them.

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**Chapter 5: Divorce Precedings**

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For once she was grateful that her room didn't have windows. The stream of sunlight that entered the room from the cracks around the door declared it to be midmorning, yet Severus, the incessantly early riser, remained sleeping at her side. She studied his face in the dim light and tried not to think of what news was awaiting them in the morning paper.

It was no use.

As if sensing the rising tension in the room, his eyes opened. He lifted his head and did a preliminary scan about the room, his eyes falling upon the boxes stacked in the corner.

So, she _had_ been packing. He didn't know what to say about that.

He couldn't ask her not to, and he wasn't sure he could bear to offer to help. Besides, she had the entire Weasley family at her disposal and very little in the way of possessions. Shit, she could be gone in less than an hour. No need to ask where she was going, though part of him burned to force her to look him in the eye and say it to his face. And wouldn't it seem callous if he didn't ask? After all they had been through certainly he had some right, as a friend at least, to know what her plans were.

She got out of bed, quickly tugging on the fuzzy Gryffindor red bath robe he bought for her for Valentine's Day. He remembered her brilliant smile when she opened the box and found that instead of some frilly bit of lingerie, this gift was picked out with _her_ in mind. He had slipped a mood stone necklace into the pocket and joked that _that_ gift was for him since she'd gotten so good at occlumency. She saw right through him. It was a lovely and rather expensive piece of jewelry, but just whimsical enough disguise the romance in the gesture.

Magical mood stones were quite rare, and it had pleased him greatly that the color of the stone was more often in shades of purple and blue, the "happy-romantic" zone, than any other shade during their time together. This morning it shined a radiant white, like a diamond. It had never been that color before and he was at a loss as to what it meant. Was it excitement or elation at being so close to being released from him? Or perhaps fear that the opposition didn't succeed?

She tugged on the ties to her robe, securing it snugly around her and opened the door. Sending light streaming into the room, the majority of which seemed to focus on the boxes. She looked up from the boxes to his expectant face.

"Where are you going?" he asked quietly.

"To make tea," she answered, ignoring the more profound connotation and slipping out of the room before that conversation could begin. For Merlin's sake, they didn't even know if a judgment had been entered yet. Perhaps she was going nowhere whether he wanted her to or not.

Would it be wrong to pray for that?

She pointedly ignored the news paper sitting on the window sill and began to brew. While the kettle heated up, she decided to make a little breakfast as well. Severus was the cook in this house, but she was able to fry eggs and bacon well enough, and she needed something to do in order not to open the window and pick up that damned paper. The kettle whistled and soon she was setting the pot to steep and absently recalling her first breakfast in this kitchen.

"You've destroyed those eggs," he had drawled from the kitchen door.

"Your stove is a piece of shit," she had retorted angrily. Hell, the whole house was a piece of shit, she thought. She couldn't believe she had to live there for god knows how long and briefly reconsidered suicide.

"That is neither here nor there," he replied as he dumped the ruined eggs into the trash and began a new batch.

She waited for his snarky insults on her lack of attention and meager abilities in the kitchen matching her abilities in the laboratory, but he said nothing more. He fixed himself a plate, ate in silence, and disappeared into his lab for the rest of the day. He couldn't have imparted that he wanted nothing to do with her better if he had shouted and berated her. His silent apathy was a much colder rejection.

The next several dozen breakfasts she had in his kitchen consisted of cold cereal or tea and toast. It was paltry fare, but she couldn't eat at Grimmauld Place or The Burrow every morning as well as most evenings.

It wasn't until she had been sleeping in his bed regularly, twined around him luxuriously, that he began to fix a second helping of whatever lovely foods he happened to be making. And they were lovely. He was an excellent cook and took care to make a nice presentation. If she didn't know better she'd think he'd always fancied having someone else to cook for.

Presently, she looked at the burnt and shriveled bits of yellow and brown in the smoking pan and frowned.

_What is this? Irony? _

_I _hate_ irony_, she thought bitterly.

"How is it that you can brew a perfect wolfsbane potion but can't fry eggs without starting a small fire?" he drawled as he slipped in behind her. He vanished the eggs and began preparing a second batch.

He pretended to be annoyed. He was good at 'annoyed.' It was a card he played often and it kept people at a safe distance.

Did he want her at a distance today? Perhaps their last day?

He turned to her and offered a smirk, the kind he gave in the bedroom, and she let out the breath she had been holding.

"I suppose we can't all be as perfect as you," she smiled playfully, wanting to make the best of this morning, perhaps their last morning. She backed out of his way and stood deliberately in front of the window where the paper lay in wait.

"Thank gods. As much as I would love to live in a world free of dunderheads, I've spent my life making a living off of them," he replied, eyeing the brilliant stone around her neck again. It hadn't changed shade in the slightest. If anything it gleamed brighter.

He slid the eggs onto their plates and waited for her to join him at the table. She lingered before the window, the morning light setting off the reddish highlights in her hair and giving her an amber halo. She looked so lovely. So lovely and so … sad? He'd seen sad on the stone before, when her cat died. That miserable beast. Sad was black.

He nodded toward her seat and she hesitantly stepped away from the window to join him. He caught a glance at the paper on the sill and raised his brows curiously.

"No Gryffindor courage this morning, Hermione?"

"Busted," she smiled brokenly and loaded her fork with eggs.

He rose up from the table, willing himself to face this as he had done every other challenge in his life. What was done was done, after all, and knowledge was power, even when it hurt. He wrenched open the window and grabbed the paper.

She clenched her fingers tightly around her fork as his eyes scanned the front page, and attempted to eat as though nothing were out of the ordinary while he read on for what felt like an eternity. Finally, he appeared to have finished, his brows rising in … what was it? surprise? interest? satisfaction?

"Well, Mrs. Snape," he sighed, "it appears that reason has yet to prevail in the Ministry of Magic. The law stands, but the opposition plans to try again. Minister Shacklebolt has lost the battle on divorce, however, and the Ministry will be accepting petitions as soon as this morning … "

He looked up to gauge her reaction and found her frozen, a look of mild surprise on her face. The stone twinkled brightly, like freshly fallen snow.

She noticed his gaze resting between her breasts and thought to make a comment on appropriate behavior of gentlemen at the breakfast table when she looked down to the gleaming stone.

"How odd," she mused.

"Indeed," he added, "I don't believe I've seen it turn that color before. What does it mean?" He looked back at the paper, attempting to portray that he wasn't desperately hanging on her answer.

"I don't know, perhaps it's broken or confused? According to Newton's Theory of Color, the color white is the result of all colors of the visible light spectrum combined," she supplied.

Fucking hell! Leave it to her to pull even _that_ answer from a book.

This was getting ridiculous. He had faced many dangers and painful realizations in his life with more nerve than he was handling this situation and it offended his ego and provoked his temper. Her alert yet calm demeanor and introspective eyes gave him little reason to hope. It was time to tear off the bandage, to _make_ her say it.

He was about to ask, to just blurt it out, _do you want a divorce? _When Ginerva Potter burst through the floo in the living room and began calling for Hermione.

"In the kitchen, Gin," Hermione answered.

Ginny practically ran to the kitchen and stopped short when she saw Severus still at the table. He was usually in his lab by 7am, but here he sat, still in his bath robe at nearly 9.

"Up late then, were you?" she asked a bit cheekily.

Hermione stumbled on what to say. Yes, they had been up quite late last night. Doing what, she still wasn't sure.

Severus noticed the flush rising to her cheeks and decided to spare them both the shame. "Yes. Packing," he drawled coolly.

Hermione's eyes widened for just a fraction of a second before she clamped down on her emotional responses. So, it _was_ goodbye, then.

Packing, he called it. Gods!

Well, she wasn't going to argue or dissolve into tears over it. He'd made her cry enough times over the past two years, she wouldn't let him see her cry today.

Their last day.

"Oh my gods," Ginny squealed, "are you going to the ministry today? Ron's already there!"

Ron. Yes. Her backup plan.

"Where's Lavender," Hermione asked, her tone a bit clipped and edgy as she focused on keeping her composure. Her backbone was completely intact, as always, but her insides seemed to have vanished, except for her stomach, which churned violently. She wasn't sure she'd be able to keep her food down this time, and she certainly didn't need a face off with Lavender to top off her morning.

Severus watched her stabbing her eggs, and imagined she fancied them to be Lavender Brown-Weasley's face. The jealousy and animosity between the women had gone on since their fourth year at Hogwarts and only got worse in the years after, though Hermione had gotten much better at hiding it. Lavender, however, lacked such power, skill, or grace.

"Probably at her mum's house. Who cares so long as she's gone?" Ginny smiled as she slipped into Severus' deserted chair.

At this, Severus acknowledged that the time had come for him to show a bit of power, skill, and grace of his own and retired to his room to prepare for their trip to the ministry.

If only his bath robe had some billow to it.

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**Authurs Note: **I know, I know, _why can't they just talk about thier feelings?_ Well, because they're too proud, for one. Also, if they just came clean in a hurry this would be a very short story. You guys wanted a fleshy story, right? The original version I wrote was complete at about 4000 words. This chapter alone is over 2000. Only 2 more to go, I think. And an epilogue. Hope you all stick around for it. Let me know what you think, I'm all ears and your reviews are fueling my creative fire :)


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer:** _Still not JKR._

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**Chapter 6: Divorce Precedings Part II**

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Ginny waited in the living room with a bored looking Severus while Hermione finished getting ready for their trip to the ministry. After adding the finishing touches to her hair and robes, she looked herself over and frowned.

No, no, no. That wouldn't do at all.

She hadn't looked this harried since poor old Crooks had died. She used a glamour charm on the circles under her eyes, used a bit of blush to put some color back into her cheeks, and forced a smile.

_Ooo_, _too much_. With a grin like that she looked positively insane.

She toned down the smile, attempting something a bit less toothy, more elegant and confident. Yes, that was it.

"Go, go, Gryffindor," she cheered rather ineffectually. She felt anything but lion-like.

Severus stood to greet her when she entered the room. Ginny gave her an appraising glance and said, "You look very pretty, Mione. I love those robes."

"Thank you, Ginny," Hermione donned her practiced smile.

Severus said nothing and appeared not to notice the way the dark blue velvet hugged her breasts and hips. He may have been miserly when it came to his possessions and personal space, but he had always been generous when it came to dressing his wife.

She had once seen it as a way for him to control her, insisting that she not be seen in her "vulgar muggle clothes" and cover her body in the prudish wizarding dresses and robes that were positively stuck in the Victorian fashion era. It became her first tactic of revenge to buy the most expensive robes she could find and charge them to Severus' account. To her surprise, he didn't bat an eye at the receipt, but had to work not to swallow his tongue when she came sauntering into the room dressed in rich fabrics that were cut and spelled to accentuate her every curve.

She had never appreciated the saying "less is more" before she began dressing for Severus.

She tempted him daily with robes that draped, dresses that clung, and brief glimpses of her lacy corset when she bent over, or a lingering view of her ankle to mid calf clad in beautifully detailed stockings when she put on an laced her dainty walking boots. She knew full well that no matter how erotic or enticing her actions, he wouldn't come to her until Saturday. It was always a question of who was really in control while he slowly undressed her, peeling away each layer as if unwrapping a delicate candy.

And how he loved to find out what lay beneath.

He spent the whole week, every week, taking surreptitious glances and fantasizing about what tantalizing straps of ribbon, bands of lace, and gossamer silks wound up her legs, caressed her thighs, and cosseted her female treasures. Whatever the price, it was worth every sickle.

At least until today.

Had she dressed for Weasley today? Donned her most seductive lingerie? The fishnet stockings with the seam that ran up the back and met with silken lace? The matching garter that hugged her hips and perfectly framed her satin covered quim?

How long would it take Weasley to strip her out of that dress? Would he run his mouth down her throat and shoulders as he slowly unlaced her corset the way Severus had, or would he crudely rip it from her body in a rush to bury himself in her?

Severus burned with a jealous rage at the thought of Weasley's paws on her and it was all he could do not to cross room, throw her over his shoulder like a caveman, and lock her in his bedroom. _Their_ bedroom. The room they had shared for over a year now, the room where he made love with _his_ wife.

Ginny startled when she noticed his glare and the way he clenched his fists while he watched an obviously unhurried Hermione slip on her cloak and work the fastenings.

"Come on, Mione, you don't need to do it up all the way," Ginny prodded.

She grabbed a fist full of floo powder, tossed it into the fire, called out, "Ministry of Magic," and disappeared into the flames leaving Severus and Hermione to follow.

Severus stood to the right of the fireplace, his anger suddenly replaced by longing and fear. _Last chance,_ he thought,_ Ask her to stay. Beg her. Promise her anything. Anything!_

She sensed his discomfort and it heightened her own. This may very well be the last time they would ever be alone together. Whatever profound questions, confessions, or declarations she had to make, now was the time to voice them.

"I …" he began.

"Yes?" she answered quietly, gratefully, _hopefully_.

For just a moment his cool façade faded and he appeared almost desperate for her understanding as he struggled for words. Her questioning eyes burned into his and he reflexively looked away. His eyes roamed the room trying to find safe harbor while he began to feel the shame of his search for tender words. _Useless words_. He could face the condemnations of The Dark Lord, but not of this witch.

His eyes finally came to rest on the fireplace. The silence had gone on too long. The moment had passed. He stiffened, his brow furrowed and he finally replied, "I believe it is discourteous of us to keep Mrs. Potter waiting." He held his arm out, gesturing for her to move forward, activated the floo and said, "After you."

Her heart sank. As she followed his request and turned to the floo, self pity turned to painful indignation that after everything he had nothing to say to her in this last moment. Instead of voicing her feelings, she stepped determinedly into the floo imagining herself a block of ice. "Ministry of Magic," she called out briskly, and whirled away.

He took a moment to compose himself, fighting the urge to blast the old chair where she read, the divan where she entertained guests, and the little table where she set her tea. It was no use to destroy them. He could blast the whole house and never be rid of her empty places.

"Ministry of Magic," his hollow voice sounded, and he found himself back before her expectant gaze, flanked by not one, but two red haired firebrands.

"Mr. Weasley," he nodded coolly in greeting, his gut churning. The little fuck was already here, of course. And standing defensively, _possessively_, at Hermione's side.

"Professor Snape," Ron returned with a curt nod.

"Grow up, boy, I haven't been your professor for years," Severus drawled sarcastically.

Oh, it felt good to lash out at him.

"Well, I'm not calling you _'Master'_ if that's what you're playing at," Ron huffed.

"Playing is for children and imbeciles such as yourself, I was merely stating a fact. If you haven't got the manners or class to address me by my correct title at least have the maturity not to regress to addressing me as though you were still a frightened little firsty."

Ron opened his mouth to snap back a reply, but stopped short at the pleading eyes of Hermione. _'Not today,' _she seemed to beg.

"Whatever you say, _Snape_," he replied with as little acrimony and bile as he could muster.

Severus sniffed in recognition and felt both appeased at having a jab at the weasel and regretful that he had allowed himself to become outwardly emotional in the first place. He hadn't spoken down to Weasley in over a year. It had always been pleasure enough to know that he would be the one Hermione went home with. The one she laid with. The one whose name she cried out in passion. Now he was making obvious his displeasure at the role reversal.

"You should be going now, Ron," Ginny said, nodding toward the document in his hand, "Get her to sign it while she's still willing."

Ron acknowledged his duty and the time for his exit with a resigned and bitter nod, then stepped into the floo that Severus had abandoned and spun off to find his wife.

The three remaining turned to face the madness going on at the ministry. The crowd was thick and Hermione nearly lost Ginny twice as they weaved their way to the family court hall. Severus was so tall that she could easily spot him when she turned her head. There had never been such thing as divorce in their realm before, and people who hadn't even been brought together by the marriage law were bustling through the atrium to get in line for divorce papers.

_Was there really no hope for love everlasting?_

Hermione was nearly toppled by a man in a bright purple suit and top hat as she scanned the crowd for Ginny yet again.

"Pardon me, young lady," he blushed as he helped steady her, "Are you alright?"

"Yes, thank you," she answered a bit flustered as she smoothed her hair, brushed off her robes and straightened her necklace.

"All right then," he grinned as he stepped back and admired her. "Congratulations," he nodded, still grinning like an idiot. Then he disappeared back into the crowd.

'Weirdo,'she thought uncharitably.

It wasn't an erroneous assumption that she was here to have her marriage dissolved, but _congratulations? _Bad form, sir. Bad form and really, _really_ bad suit. Again she looked back to Severus and caught him giving the purple pinhead his signature death glare. Spot on, as ever.

She turned back to find Ginny and spotted her waving frantically from the back of one of several lines.

"What's this one for?" Hermione asked as she met up with Ginny.

"To get the petition forms," she handed Hermione a ministry notice that listed the different types of petition forms and the regulations of each. They took a few minutes to pursue the list.

"I think you'll need form 12, 'mutually agreed dissolution,'" Ginny pointed at the paper.

Hermione read the notice for form 12. _Mutually agreed dissolution requires that: both parties desire dissolution of the marriage; no children have been produced from the union; equal distribution of marital assets ..._ She stopped reading there.

"Severus won't agree to this," she said, shaking her head and looking back to the list.

"Why not?" Ginny asked.

"Equal distribution of assets," Hermione quoted, "He isn't very well going to give me half of everything he owns."

"Well, it doesn't seem fair to me that you should walk away with nothing," Ginny replied indignantly, pinning her gaze on Severus who stood back a few feet looking nonchalant and perfectly poised.

"I came in with nothing," Hermione supplied.

"But you worked with him, he makes money from the potions you made," Ginny argued.

"And he supported me for the past two years. It doesn't matter," Hermione added quickly, "I can make do on my own."

"I hope so, because Ron can hardly support himself," Ginny began.

"I don't need _Ron_ to support me," Hermione flushed, wishing Severus wasn't witnessing this humiliating display. She was starting to feel ill again. She really didn't want to vomit here in front of all these people. Him especially.

He had considered her financial situation before, and while the thought of his hard earned galleons in Weasley's pocket was enough to make him choke with rage, it was nothing compared to the impotent sorrow and regret he would feel at seeing his Hermione reduced to abject poverty. Her pride wouldn't allow for him to help her later. It was now or never.

"It's alright," Severus drawled, "As Mrs. Potter said, it would be unfair of me to send you off with nothing. Although, half of everything does seem a bit much. I'm willing to part with half of the assets accumulated during the marriage."

Stunned by his generosity, she gaped at him for an embarrassingly long time. Half of his profits from his potions business for the past two years was enough to pay off all her debts and finish school, perhaps more.

"I believe the words you're searching for are 'Thank you, Severus,'" he drawled in that falsely blasé tone of his.

"Thank you, Severus," she breathed. Upon remembering herself and more so _remembering Severus _-- he was anything but indifferent about his things, she added, "I had no idea you wanted me gone quite so badly."

The amount of cheek to her words didn't quite cover the wounded feeling behind them. He smirked again, only this time that satisfied gleam in his eye was missing. His eyes darted from Hermione's back to Ginny, who eyed him curiously, and any response he could have made died inside of him. He turned his gaze to the far wall and resumed his poised stance, as stoic and unreadable ever.

A plump older witch pressed passed them, giving Ginny a smile and nodding at Hermione, "Congratulations, dear," she smiled, and then bustled away leaving a stunned Hermione and puzzled Ginny in her wake.

"Completely inappropriate," Hermione complained, "one does not congratulate people on their divorce. It's not proper etiquette."

"Give her a break," Ginny replied, "How would she know the proper etiquette? No one in our world has ever gotten a divorce before."

"Yes, well, it's time they learn then, isn't it? The next person to congratulate me is getting an ear full," she huffed a bit petulantly.

They made their way to the counter and Ginny asked for form 12. The ministry clerk handed the form to Ginny with a smile and then turned to Hermione. Before he could speak, Ginny hushed him, "I wouldn't do that if I were you."

The clerk looked a bit confused, shrugged, explained how to fill out form 12, and pointed out which line they should get into to have it filed.

Ginny thanked him and pulled Hermione toward the sitting area to begin filling in the form. "Close one," she winked.

Hermione gave her best impression of Severus' snarkiest smirk and snipped, "Don't do me any favors, sister. I was looking forward to letting off a little steam."

Ginny giggled. "_Sister_," she smiled, nudging Hermione's shoulder.

Hermione couldn't help smiling and nudging back. She had loved Ginny like a sister for forever. The thought of actually becoming sisters nearly brought a tear to her eye.

Severus looked on. The seat next to Hermione was empty, but he chose to sit in the adjacent isle. He could observe her better and less noticeably from there. He could observe each twitch of her mouth as she worried her lip. He could observe each errant curl as it fell into her face.

He could observe each slash of her quill as she cut him from her life.

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**Author's Note:** ... Oh, angst-cakes!

I promise, for good or bad, I'm going to resolve it. Like I said, one more chapter (and an epilogue.) Hope you'll stick with me for it. Also, thanks so much for the reviews, they mean very much :) xoxo- slash


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: I'm not JKR, I just play her on the internets.

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**Chapter 7: Finalized**

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It only took two stops to find her, though there were plenty of places she could have been had she wanted to hide from him. He'd never paid attention to whom she spent time with or where. But, no, she wasn't hiding. She wasn't playing games. She wasn't cloying, clinging, or crying, either.

She sat at the kitchen table at The Burrow waiting for him. His mother sat across from her, pointedly ignoring the girl while she busied herself with her knitting. It was coming up on December and she had a lot of sweaters to make, though obviously one less than last year.

They'd had their ups and downs, these two women. Well, mostly downs. Lavender was prissy, emotional, and unused to hard work and poverty while Molly was nosy, insensitive, and overbearing when it came to her son's life. Molly had also made her disapproval of their marriage known from day one, and where Molly went, so went the rest of the Weasley's.

Lavender had thought for a long time that she didn't need to be loved by the rest of the Weasley's as long as her husband cared for her. He'd never said so, but there was a certain affectionate look in his eyes when he'd rush to hug her after an exhilarating quidditch match, when he watched her serve his meals, and when he helped her undress to join him in bed.

For a long time it hadn't been there, that look. She could tell that while he laid with her, _she_ was the one he thought of. _The Great Barrier_, Lavender's mother called her. It was a witty and rather cutting double entendre that alluded to her coarse and overgrown hair and the sharks that hovered protectively about her, as well as her position between Mrs. Brown's daughter and son-in-law.

But it didn't quite capture all that was Hermione.

It didn't encompass her self importance, her brainy elitism, or her heartlessness. It didn't reference the way she sashayed about in her designer robes dangling the promise of sex like a carrot to both Ron and her discreetly desperate husband.

Contrary to popular opinion, Lavender _wasn't_ stupid.

She saw every jealous glance, every held breath, every embittered scowl, every shared recognition of unrequited love ... She knew he didn't mean to let it show, and she never humiliated him by speaking of it. She couldn't help but stare daggers at Hermione, though. Not just for herself, but for her poor old professor.

How dare she, the harlot. Dragging that poor man through Diagon Alley as though he were a pup on a leash, flagrantly draped in his galleons, never once hiding the fact that she coveted another woman's husband and couldn't care a fig for her own. It served her right that she was barren. What sort of mother would she be anyhow?

While Lavender didn't feel a bit sorry for Hermione, she did regret bragging about being pregnant last week. Poor Professor Snape. He was a war hero and a good man, and he deserved someone to love him, if not his frigid wife, than at least a child or two. And his eyes, those fathomless black wells, how they gleamed for the smallest moment with hurt. For his sake and for that moment of unacknowledged regret, she wished she had said nothing.

Besides, she could safely assume that her darling sister-in-law Ginny had already delivered the message that Ronald wouldn't be tied down with a child after all. He'd be free if he chose to be. And if he chose to be, then she supposed that meant she'd be free, too. Free from this half-life. Free from her crowded marriage. Free to have something better.

Ron nodded for his mother to leave them alone, and for once the interfering old hag complied without gifting them with her haughty and entirely unwanted opinions on the matter. He sat in his mothers vacated seat and set the divorce papers on the table between them.

She calmly read the document over once and took out her quill. As her hand hovered over the signature line, she glanced up to see him pale when she asked with guileless curiosity, "Did you ever love me?"

He stared at her surprised, apparently lost for words. She smiled. Then she adorned the signature line with smooth, sweeping stokes of her quill.

Words had never been his strong suit.

x

o

x

o

Severus had been cursed.

Hexed.

Poisoned.

Humiliated.

Beaten within an inch of his life.

In short, things had quite conceivably been worse.

He could never forget the feeling of those fangs sinking into his throat, the glimmering stream of memories he wept from his mind, or the flash of green eyes.

Her eyes.

They were the first thing he saw in the hospital upon healing from his injuries. He was confused by the white walls and white lights. Green eyes sought black and he called out to her. It was Potter who answered, "Not yet, Professor."

Not yet.

The universe hadn't finished flogging him.

He wondered idly how many moments he'd wasted looking wistfully at photos of her while _she_ was in the very next room. Did she know? He guessed she must have with her unquenchable thirst for knowledge and penchant for snooping. Did she care?

It had been quite some time since he sat at his desk basking in those artificial gazes and smiles, pretending they were real. Did she know that too?

He still had those green eyes tucked away, smiling at empty vials, old quills, and bits of sealing wax. It was a cold comfort. He didn't want to look upon them anymore. Somewhere along the line he'd traded emeralds for amber and he cursed himself for never having the forethought to capture them to keep him company in the future.

He should have known it couldn't last.

While Severus brooded and Hermione continued to fill in form 12, Ginny carried on a conversation with a young witch who had only just gotten married 3 weeks earlier due to the law. The girl periodically burst into tears as she recalled and retold the details of her betrothal, wedding, and ancient husband who was reluctant to let her go. She had to use form 13, _Contested Dissolution,_ which was set up to favor the person contesting the divorce and required specific issues of just cause, including abuse, infidelity, or sterility for the filing to even be considered.

The poor girl seemed a bit hopeless at this point, but Ginny, ever the dogged optimist, tried to help by doing her best impression of Rita Skeeter and her dicto-quill while helping her fill in her form. To Severus' interest and Hermione's horror, she also made little observations on the similarity of circumstance between the young woman and Hermione.

So this is what she thought of him. Of _them_.

Hermione's cheeks burned and she concentrated on filling in the form to shut out Ginny's hum's and nods identifying parallels; some regretfully accurate and others terribly erroneous. She didn't like being reminded of how she had gotten here or that Severus had ever been anything but good to her. But she couldn't very well stop Ginny and correct her; tell her what an exciting conversationalist, brilliant lab partner, and generous lover Severus was. He'd be horrified by such a breech of privacy. She could only keep her head down and pretend not to hear. An action that was not lost on her husband.

When Hermione finally looked up from the form, there wasn't anything left to do but sign it. She looked up to Severus to find his dark eyes locked on her and was suddenly aware of nothing but his gaze and the pounding of her heart, anxious and aggrieved, and wondered if he could hear it, too. Perhaps if he knew, if he saw ... She was on the verge of dropping her barriers to allow him access to her thoughts when Ginny nudged her hand with a fresh ink pot.

"Here, use mine," she offered, assuming that Hermione had run out.

Hermione dropped her eyes from Severus to the ink for just a fraction of a second. When she looked back up, the spell was broken. He had pinned his gaze to the far wall once more, cool, composed, and utterly lost to her.

Resigned, she dipped her quill in Ginny's pot and stared at the signature line that awaited her name. _Hermione Jean Snape_.

Gods, she had hated the way it sounded for so long.

His name slipped off the tongue in an elegant consonance; _Severus Snape_. Even just her first name had always come spluttering out of everyone who said it as fluently as a mouthful of broken glass. Everyone, that is, except for Severus. He had a way of enunciating each syllable like the beat of a sonnet; _Her-mi-o-nee._

Others had shortened it in the most trite or irritating ways. Hermy. Mione. Mimi. Horrible, the lot of them. Severus and his infinitely clever tongue had shortened it, as well.

_Mion_.

He acted as though it were a mere convenience, but there was a question buried in there somewhere. A question neither dared acknowledge for fear of the answer, but one so delicious to the tongue and stirring to the soul that it begged to be asked over and over and over. She wouldn't miss Hermione Jean Snape a bit, but the thought of never hearing that other name again …

She stared down at the swoops and curls decorating the signature line and realized that she'd done it, the fresh ink glittering in evidence of her betrayal, her senseless complacency. Every other thought left her head and she felt wan and bloodless, as though she had just cut out her own heart.

The eerie and detached manner in which she stared at her signature unnerved Ginny while simultaneously strengthening Severus' resolve. She done it, and now so must he. He took the parchment and quill from her lame hands and scratched his name along the line, sealing the agreement and dissolving the marriage.

Snapping out of her trance, she uttered, "You didn't read it."

He handed it back to her without meeting her eye, "I trust you."

He had signed it without any hesitation at all, without even _reading_ it. She retreated, form in hand, and crossed the atrium to take her place in line to have the ministry barristers seal and file the agreement. Her body was numb, and the vibrations of each step she took seemed to roll to her stomach in the form of nauseous waves.

Distantly she heard Ginny ask if she was alright. Her ears were ringing and a cold sweat beaded along her entire body. There was no holding back. "I need the loo," she whispered, pushing the form into Ginny's hands. She quickly made her way to across the atrium, brushing passed the queue for the ladies room with muttered apologies before succumbing to her need and vomiting in the nearest sink.

"I'm sorry," she whimpered between retching and sobs, "I couldn't hold it."

"It happens to all of us, dear," an older witch consoled her with a few gentle pats on the back before departing.

Hermione rinsed and scourgified the sink, and took a moment to set herself to rights.

Meanwhile, Severus stood in line with Ginny feeling awkward and anxious. He wanted to follow Hermione to make sure she was alright and eyed Ginny curiously as to why she hadn't.

Ginny was reading Hermione's responses on the form, "They're charmed, you know," she said matter of fact like.

He quirked a brow at her and asked, "What are?"

"The papers," she waved the form in her hands, "They're charmed for honesty, like the marriage questionnaires."

He let out a bored sounding sigh, "_Fascinating_."

He wore his most unconcerned expression, but his eyes revealed his anxiety when they darted from the wall toward the restroom.

"I'm sure she's fine," Ginny supplied, "Just the excitement of the day and all."

He felt like hexing her.

Instead he pinned his eyes to the wall and focused on remaining detached while he wondered if his feelings would betray him or if the charm would only see that he had not been coerced, that he _chose_ to set her free. The line moved, and moved again until they were standing at the counter and Ginny passed the form to the clerk.

Hermione rejoined them still looking a bit pale, the clerk ran her wand over the page, Ginny absently tapped her fingers on the counter, and Severus worried that his chest might burst.

"Hum," the clerk muttered and twitched her lips in puzzlement, "There appears to be a problem with your document."

"What sort of problem?" Ginny asked.

"I'm not sure exactly, but the probitas charm definitely indicates a breech of terms," the clerk replied looking from one to the next as if to ascertain the guilty party by sight.

Hermione was awash in shame, knowing the charm must have revealed her true feelings and cursing herself for not considering that the ministry would have charmed the documents to begin with. Her insides fluttered and her only consolation was that she had nothing left in her stomach to expel. She wobbled a bit, and Severus quickly put his arm around her to help steady her.

A second ministry clerk approached, looked them over and saluted them with a hearty, "Congratulations!" stunning them all further and opening the door for Hermione's long awaited tirade.

"First of all," Hermione began with a bit of a tremble, "One does not congratulate people on their divorce. It's improper to the point of indecency. And second, we are apparently _not_ getting divorced."

The wizard looked confused for a moment then laughed, "Of course you're not getting divorced! Who would congratulate someone on a divorce, anyway? I meant the baby! You know, I haven't seen a mood stone shine that bright in years. That's a right nice piece you've got," he grinned at Hermione, "You too," he winked at Severus and then continued on his way.

"Oh!" the other clerk exclaimed, "So that's why the charm indicated the entire document was invalid. You can't use this form to divorce while pregnant. Well, quite simply, you can't get divorced at all while you're pregnant."

The clerk called for the next in line and Severus managed to keep a firm grip on his emotions as he ushered them to an empty section of the seating area where they could come to terms with the situation privately. When they had come to a sufficiently secluded place, Ginny began to laugh, shocking Hermione and Severus further still. Noting their disconcerted expressions she composed herself and explained her outburst.

"The probitas charm cannot detect pregnancy," she grinned.

Hermione and Severus simply continued to stare at her incredulously.

"It only detects _dishonesty_," she went on, "You didn't know you were pregnant and the _entire_ document showed up as dishonest!"

Ginny went from feeling amused to exasperated in the same moment, threw up her hands and huffed, "You know, for a couple of geniuses, you're both pretty thick. I trust you'll figure it out someday." Then she wrapped her arms around them both and sighed, "Congratulations, Mom and Dad. I hope the baby has your hair," she smiled at Severus, "and your nose," she winked at Hermione, "and his or her aunt Ginny's good sense." She touched Hermione's belly lovingly and headed off to tell Harry the good news.

After Ginny had disappeared into the throng moving through the ministry halls, the couple remained staring at one another for a long moment, gripping the reality of the situation. The entire document was false. Tears pricked her eyes and he reached out to take hold of her hands.

"You lied," he reproached through curled lips and mischievous eyes.

"So did you," she accused.

"Insufferable know-it-all," he sneered playfully.

"Surly git," she returned in kind.

"You like being my wife," he accused haughtily.

"You like having me for your wife," she stated factually.

"You're going to have my baby," he said with a bit of swagger and pulled her closer.

"With your hair and my nose," she quipped.

"I rather like your hair."

"And I'm quite fond of your nose."

"Are you, Mion?" he asked.

"Yes, I am," she answered.

To both questions.

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**Author's Note:** ... Awww, a mushy gushy ending, just how I like them :) Hope you all liked it, too. Still have the epilogue to go.

I feel like this chapter isn't very good ... rather anticlimatic really, especially considering that many of you knew she was preggers from the last chapter, and a few of you figured it out before that.

Damn.

I hate being a foregone conclusion!

Well, I hope it rang better to you, my wonderful, clever, and inspiring readers. Cheers, slash

**Edited to add:** Ginny is slow on the uptake, but she eventually put the pieces together, which is why she sort of warned Snape about the probitas charm (probitas is latin for honesty) and was happy for them in the end. She didn't want them to divorce for any other reason than she really thought they didn't love each other and would be happier apart.


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer:** Still not mine :(

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**Epilogue**

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It was disgustingly filthy.

Unbearably noisy.

Mind-achingly chaotic.

And there was no where else on Earth he'd rather be.

With sand in his boots, a dribble of melted ice cream drying crustily down his shoulder, and two sticky hands clenched in his hair, Severus Snape trudged across the park toward his smiling, pink cheeked wife.

"You've been in the sun too long," he chided. "Atticus, tell Mummy she mustn't cook too long, or we shall be tempted to eat her."

"Severus," she scolded lightly, barely withholding her laugh, "that's barbaric. Don't teach him to say such things."

Her son giggled wickedly and bared his teeth as his father playfully thrust him toward her like a bird of prey.

Every day with her was a day in the sun, but these days were particularly joyous. Atticus could walk and talk now, and Severus practically burst with pride each time his son outshone the Weasley and Potter children. It was to be expected, of course, considering his parentage and theirs, but still, he couldn't help but grin as Atticus dug a mote for his sand castle while Hugo Weasley ate another fist full of sand out of his 'mud pie.'

How daft of Miss Brown to have stayed with the weasel and born him an heir. Hermione might have found it romantic to hear the retelling of how Ron had torn his divorce papers into a hundred pieces and sent them to Lavender with the words, "Always," "Forever," and "Yes," scrawled across the pieces. But, in Severus' opinion, Ronald Weasley was still an overgrown child who had hardly bettered his family's station or financial security in the past 3 years. Though, Severus suspected that having a fawning and submissive Molly Weasley nearly tripping over herself to remain in the good graces of her grandson's mother was something one couldn't quite put a price on.

The Potters faired even better. Beyond the security of Harry's rather sizable inheritance, he had finally grown into his mother's perspicacity even if he hadn't quite grown out of his fathers impetuousness. He often joked about the adventures of dodging paper cuts and owl droppings as a way to mock his position as Head Auror, but he didn't spend nearly as much time in the office as he'd have his wife believe.

Another wizard who didn't spend much time in office was Kingsley Shacklebolt. After the infamous run and repeal of the marriage law, he was veritably ousted from the magical world, though he never once looked ashamed or admitted any wrong doing. Some might remember him for a war hero and others a tyrant, but the fact that he could now count on there being a magical community well into the future to remember him at all made up for any incriminations in full.

Severus wasn't quite sure how he felt about Kingsley or the law or the state of the wizarding world. It was hard enough most days just getting his mind around the surprise of waking each morning to find himself alive, free, and the object of adoration of the most beautiful woman he'd ever laid eyes on.

It didn't seem quite right to attempt to outweigh the past with the future, the suffering with the joys. Each is unique and terrible and beautiful in its own way. He'd suffered tremendously before and after the war, before and after the law, and had really only found true happiness after the repeal; _because of the repeal._

It could only ever mean something that way. It could only ever be satisfying and honest and indisputable if it were a choice.

And she chose this life, this future.

She chose him.

The distant chiming of bells signaled the closure of the park as the Snape's collected their belongings and trudged up the path toward the gates. Atticus' messy dark curls bounced in time with his toddling strides while Severus' fingers itched to attempt to tame them, and the smooth, round stone around Hermione's neck gleamed brilliantly in the last rays of the setting sun.

Yes, the future was bright indeed.

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**A/N:** So, you might be wondering why it took me **a year** to finally come back to post this epilogue ... well, it sort of died inside of me when I reread the last chapters and found them terribly predictable and uninspired.

I understand that many of you liked them anyway, but, as the author, I've got to make me happy first. Horridly selfish, I know, but there you have it.

The reason I finally came back to this is because I did say all along that I would write an epilogue, and even though I thought everyone would figure I gave up on it, people kept putting this ridiculous story on their alerts list. Very kind of you all, btw. It's quite nice to get reviews, but for those who don't know what to say or are too shy or whatever, putting a story in your alerts or faves at least gives the author the signal that you didn't walk away with a bad taste in your mouth, because, you know, we can see how many hits we get.

I apologize for the long wait for this epilogue and for the fact that it isn't longer or better. And I'd like to give a very big and heart felt thanks to all who have supported me in this endeavor. ( ( ( squishes you all ) ) )


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